On Monday my grandma Ruthie past away. At 8:03 I received a voicemail from my mom saying I needed to call her right away, that is was important. I knew right then that my grandma died and calling my mom just confirmed it. When she said the words I just went numb. Like having ice cold water slowly dumped over my head. The conversation was short and to the point. I was okay with it because I had no words. I hung up, told Nick and he sprung into action. He called his boss to let him know he wasn’t going into work that day, he made my flight arrangments and smothered me with hugs and back rubs that I didn’t really want.
As the day went on and it sunk in is when I realized that everything in my family is going to change. My grandma was the glue that held our family together. She was the reason we did anything together. She was the reason that we spent Thanksgiving and Christmas together. She was the reason we got together for birthdays every month. She was the reason for everything and now she’s gone. We’ve lost the glue that held us together.
I feel like everything is going to change now. My grandma’s house and most of her things will probably be sold. The cabin and land up north that my grandparents worked hard for will be sold to someone outside the family. All we’ll have left is pictures and a few knick-knacks. All the important things will be gone though. The things that tie us to her will be gone.
Because these things will be gone I’ll never be able to show my kids what kind of woman my grandma Ruthie was. They will hear the stories I tell them of her and I’ll show them pictures so they know what she looked like but they won’t know her. They won’t understand how important she was not just to me but to my whole family. They won’t be able to go to her house on weekends or holiday and know what it’s like to cram over twenty people and multiple dogs into her tiny kitchen and living room. They won’t have the memories of picking blackberries up north or being checked for ticks or going swimming in the Peshtigo River. They won’t know how she and my grandpa worked hard so my mom, sisters and myself could have those memories.
I’m now sitting in the airport waiting for my flight to Chicago to go home for her funeral. I don’t want to be sitting here. I don’t want to be going home. I don’t want to do anything except for crawl into bed until this is all over. I want to feel nothing. I want to not cry in the middle of the airport or at her funeral or after her funeral. I want to not have to watch my family go through this. I just want this to not have happened. I’m not ready for her to be gone.